


A Step Forward

by naboru



Series: IDW/TAAO Combaticons [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 08:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: After their coma, everything is different, but Blast Off still isn’t as close to Onslaught as he wants to be…Note:Set a little after TAAO #10. It contains hints to the issue, so please don’t read if you don’t want to be spoilered. :)





	A Step Forward

**Author's Note:**

> **Continuity:** IDW G1, post TAAO #10  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
>  **Beta:** sammyphoenix *glomps* :D

Blast Off stood in front of Onslaught’s door and sighed. He should knock, but he didn’t want to.

After they woke up, their situation changed, almost according to Blast Off’s pre-awake dream. They worked for Starscream now, but no one remembered Swindle’s demise except him.

Blast Off felt queasy just thinking about it. His guilt was eating him up.

They had their own house now, and each of them had their own studio in it. Only Onslaught’s apartment was bigger and on the top floor. It was pretty, clean and comfortable, but Blast Off still didn’t feel home. He was the only one who didn’t have artificial memories of this place. For him everything had been new. He hadn’t known in which floor he lived, and there had been personal belongings in his room that he knew he hadn’t owned before. Some of them were things he’d always wanted, but it didn’t make him feel much better.

On their first day after waking up, his team had acted like coming home after a long day at work. He had wanted to shake them to make them realise that it was all not right, but it hadn’t been his deal with Starscream.

Blast Off had been very quiet that afternoon, and he knew Onslaught had noticed.

Sighing again, he leant his forehead on the doorframe. He still needed to knock.

The situation between him and Onslaught hadn’t changed much, so the reason why their boss wanted to see him was probably work.

Onslaught had touched Blast Off a few times accidentally on purpose. A nudge on his energy field, a hand on his hip when he wanted him to move away. Sometimes their hands touched, but it was nothing serious. And after Starscream’s offer, Blast Off felt too guilty to act on it, even though it was what he’d always hoped for.

Venting deeply, Blast Off straightened up, and forced himself to knock. He was two minutes overdue.

Onslaught opened instantly, his expression unreadable behind his mask. “Blast Off,” he greeted the shuttle, “I thought you were glued to the floor in front of my door.” His engine rumbled, and Blast Off winced at being caught.

“I was just-“

“Stop there,” Onslaught interrupted him. “It’s okay, I’m just messing with you.” Another slight rev of Onslaught’s engine that could have been a laugh. “Come in.”

Blast Off could only nod, and followed inside.

The apartment didn’t look much different from his own, with some furniture and personal belongings. There weren’t many, and no decorations, but there didn’t need to be.

A huge couch stood in the middle of the living room, opposite the large window. It could turn into a screen, but right now it gave a great view of the city, of the silhouettes of buildings, of streetlights and lit windows. Blast Off stood there and stared.

“The view is amazing,” Onslaught said, stepping next to Blast Off.

Blast Off glanced up at the other and nodded. “I didn’t realise the city view was so much better here than from the lower floors.”

There was a glint in Onslaught’s visor. “Well, yes. The view of the city is nice, too.”

Blast Off tensed. He suppressed the cough that built in his throat, and tried not to show how flustered he was.

“Let’s take a seat, shall we?” Onslaught placed his hand on Blast Off’s lower back and led them to the sofa. On the living room table were a few cubes, some darker than others, probably high grade.

It was one of the perks of having a regular job and working with the city leaders. They had access to convenient food and upgrades. Even though Blast Off didn’t like that for Brawl. He still thought the tank should go to rehab, but he hadn’t raised that with any of this team yet.

Only when Onslaught’s hand was gone, did Blast Off become fully aware of what just happened, and his optics widened, looking away from his boss as he sat down.

“Would you like a drink?”

Blast Off gave another nod, and he started to feel stupid.

Onslaught huffed amused. “You’re quiet tonight.”

He felt caught once more, but took the cube offered to him. “Just wondering what you want to discuss with me, boss.”

“It’s Onslaught,” he replied, sitting down next to Blast Off – much closer than they would sit during a briefing. “Don’t call me boss tonight. We’re not at work.”

“Oh,” Blast Off uttered, and quickly took a sip from his drink. It was strong, burning down his throat.

“I was just thinking it would be nice to spend some time together without the others,” Onslaught continued. His arm came up, lying on the backrest above Blast Off’s shoulders.

They hadn’t been this close since before their coma, when Onslaught had told Blast Off he was proud of him. It seemed so long ago. Just like that time, Blast Off’s innards did this weird fluttery thing. His jaw clenched, and he drank more of his high grade.

“I’ve been thinking,” Onslaught began again, his visor staring at the city below them.

“About?” Blast Off asked, sipping again. His first cube would be empty soon.

“You,” Onslaught said bluntly, causing Blast Off to choke on his drink.

“You’ve been thinking… about me?” Blast Off wiped a drop of energon from his mouth. 

“Why are you so surprised?” Onslaught withdrew his battlemask, and took a sip from his own energon.

Frag, he was handsome. Blast Off turned away as not to stare, looking at his empty cube instead. He couldn’t get himself a new one, because Onslaught was faster. The arm moved from the backrest, the hand brushing Blast Off’s shoulder as Onslaught reached for a new drink. “Actually, I know why you are surprised,” Onslaught continued as he offered Blast Off a full cube. He put his arm back around Blast Off’s shoulder, not even the backrest this time. “I should have thought about you earlier, and I apologise.”

Blast Off stopped himself repeating the other’s words as question, and bit his lower lip. He felt incredibly stupid right now, but it was better to say nothing than something dumb. He just drank more high grade. Maybe that was why Brawl drank that much? The effect of it slowly made itself present, and he became slightly dizzy, but he couldn’t relax just then.

“In hindsight, I should have noticed it a lot sooner, but the war had kept us - me - busy.” Onslaught’s hand started stroking lazy circles on Blast Off’s shoulder. “I didn’t realise what you were trying to do, and I apologise for that.”

“You don’t have to?” Blast Off protested weakly. This situation was just bizarre. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not, even less when he felt his guilt raise again and make him nauseous.

“Actually,” Onslaught leant forward, putting his cube on the table, taking Blast Off’s out of his hands as well, “I’m confused that you never returned my recent attempts of getting closer.” The red visor was staring at Blast Off now, and he had to swallow hard. He was tense, and tensed even more when Onslaught leant back, and into him, their frames so close, their energy fields touching. Slaggin’ pit, Onslaught’s proximity made his platting rattle and lines tingle. It was clear Onslaught knew what he did to him.

“I…” Blast Off tried, and had to reset his vocaliser. “I guess I’m not used to attention…. from you?”

“Well, then you better get used to it,” Onslaught rasped, his field extended, a tempting tickle that pulled Blast Off even closer. It might also be the hand on his shoulder, the arm around him that pulled him tight. It didn’t matter when Blast Off leant up, their faces were so close.

Onslaught’s engine growled, and finally their lips met.

The kiss tasted of high grade, and the tartness of strong engines. It was better than Blast Off could ever have imagined. The soft press of lips followed by a denta biting lightly. Glossae teased and fought, making Blast Off utter a soft sigh. His optics dimmed, and his hand came up to clutch at Onslaught’s upper arm. A flicker of his energy field nudged Onslaught’s that pushed back and created a nice friction.

Blast Off didn’t want to think, just enjoy the moment he’d waited for so long. Yet his thoughts spun around the question of if Onslaught really wanted this. Maybe they’d given him more than a nudge, and, in reality, that nudge had been too much already.

But Onslaught’s engine growled possessively, his hand cupped Blast Off’s helm, and he pulled him closer. Only to push him down on the couch, leaning over him, and Blast Off’s thoughts stopped.

Onslaught stroked down Blast Off’s side, wound fingers into transformation seams to tease the circuits beneath, and Blast Off gasped. They didn’t break the kiss that morphed from sensual to possessive to needy. Blast Off wrapped his arms around Onslaught’s neck, not wanting to let him go, not wanting to wake up if this was just another dream. 

The hand on Blast Off’s side moved further down, reaching the interface panel slightly above the hip. Blast Off panted, this time breaking the kiss. It earnt him a soft chuckle from Onslaught, his vocaliser crackling with static.

He didn’t say anything, but Onslaught’s energy field flared, his signature conveying how pleased he was with Blast Off’s reaction. And how could Blast Off not react? Those hands on his plating were what he’d wanted for ages. This energy field enveloping him, being the reason for Onslaught to rev his engine like this. This truth made Blast Off head dizzy, his spark flare.

He arched up, wanting to feel those lips on his again, but Onslaught pushed him down, and nibbled along Blast Off’s jaw line. He moved further down, to the neck cables, collar plating. His hands stroking a path where his lips followed, kissing and biting, and Blast Off writhed. He moaned at a bite on a particular sensitive spot, and clutched at Onslaught’s cannons.

He knew the other didn’t feel much on them, but this didn’t matter. Blast Off needed something to ground him, something to scratch at when their energy fields flared hotly and their charges rose slowly. It was teasing and torture and everything he’d always dreamt of.

Onslaught licked over his interface panel, and Blast Off let it click open. He heard another soft chuckle, but it was drowned out by Onslaught’s engine revving hard. It sent vibrations up Blast Off’s frame, and he bit back another moan.

A surge of pleasure clouded Blast Off’s processor even more as a glossa teased his ports. His connectors were pulled out, fingers fumbled with his cables. Blast Off dug his heel into the couch, his fans roared as heat increased.

Frag, this was so good on so many levels, he thought, and then Onslaught stopped. Blast Off whined, Onslaught laughed dryly. 

“Aren’t you impatient?” Onslaught said, his voice staticky, and Blast Off grinned up at him.

“I guess I just got used to your attention,” he replied, venting heavily and having found some of his confidence again.

“Then I have to step up the game, don’t I?” Onslaught rumbled, and his first connector clicked in.

Blast Off’s optics widened, glowing bright at the first wave of charge rushing into him. He arched up again and moaned. A second connector followed, then the next. He clutched at Onslaught’s upper arm and dented the metal as pleasure rolled through him, tickling circuits and teasing sensors.

Onslaught grunted, taking Blast Off’s plugs and completed the interface. The red visor lit up as well. Both their engines revved hard, shaking them, and their energy fields ground against one another. The friction made their plating tingle in the best way, spreading restlessness as charge surged through them. Each touch was loaded with bliss. Electricity conducted between their frames, creating tiny sparks and pleasure on sensors.

“Oh frag,” Blast Off whimpered, and hoped this would never stop. Each wave of charge increased the pleasure, each circle of the feedback loop was more intense.

Onslaught growled, staring down at him with an expression that made Blast Off’s spark spin like it was about to burst out.

There was something beneath it all. Beneath the pleasure and Onslaught’s presence. It was hard to grasp, and even harder to understand. A sense of belonging and connection that Blast Off had never had with anyone before. Nevermind that it had been a long time he was intimate with someone. He briefly wondered if it was because of their experience with the Enigma of Combination, or if the reason was merely Blast Off’s infatuation. The reason why he’d agreed to Starscream’s deal in the first place.

Before his thoughts could wander into even darker places, Onslaught pressed his lips on his. It was a harsh kiss, possessive, and Blast Off happily went with it. Over the connection there was a sense of protectiveness under all the bliss, and if his spark hadn’t gone crazy before, it would now.

Paint chipped off Onslaught’s frame as he leant further down, transferring streaks of colour, but Blast Off hardly realised. Thinking was hard, and sensors were strained. Circuits fired up randomly, sending nonsense signals under the charge.

Blast Off offlined his optics. He was close, his frame trembling, fingers clinging to Onslaught’s back. He didn’t want it to end, but he couldn’t stop either.

Their fans whirled loudly, and Blast Off moaned. Biting his lower lip when Onslaught moved again to his throat cables, Blast Off muttered something unintelligible. He pressed his mouth against Onslaught’s helm, lips brushing the metal. Sparks travelled over his lines and cables. He felt every single one, fuel lines tensing, hydraulics malfunction.

He whimpered again as he arched up, wrapping a leg around Onslaught’s, feeling their pleasures mingle. He was the reason Onslaught felt that way. He couldn’t hold back much longer either, and this was what tipped him over the edge.

Heat washed over him like a failed re-entry. His optics flared without giving him a visual feed. Sensations surged over every inch of his frame, making his plating flare. His energy field exploded around them, taking Onslaught with him. A black hand on his side dented the metal, but there was no pain, only bliss. Everything was static and colourful whirls and Onslaught’s presence swallowing him.

Blast Off clung to the sensations and the frame above him. Their plating was hot, the living room smelled of warm metal, oil, and ozone. He didn’t know if he ever felt this good before.

After a while, when the post-overload sensations set in, Blast Off relaxed. He only then felt how Onslaught’s arms were wrapped around him. The other was so close, lying on him, he blocked his front vents, but he couldn’t care less.

Through the connection came lazy pings and some insight to Onslaught’s state of mind. He was satisfied, mirroring Blast Off, and he was tired.

They hadn’t moved yet, and Blast Off could live with Onslaught being this close. He was used to heat, so his systems didn’t have a problem with the limited ventilation. He stroked up and down Onslaught’s back, his fingers tracing over the details of his cannons, feeling the welding seams and solid metal. Further up, his fingertips lightly teased Onslaught’s neck cables. The other’s face buried between Blast Off’s shoulder and helm.

“You’re tired,” Blast Off said, his vocaliser crackling, but he saw no reason to reset it.

Onslaught huffed in response, and heaved himself up. With his elbow next to Blast Off’s head, he rested his chin on his hand to look down at him. Blast Off’s jaw clenched. Why did Onslaught always wear his mask? He was so gorgeous without it. At least now he’d kept it off.

“It’s been a long day, and Starscream isn’t the easiest person to get along with.”

Blast Off refused to let his train of thought turn into this particular bad direction and grinned up instead. Though it was a wavering grin. “It’s late. I can leave, if you want?”

For a moment, there was a frown in Onslaught’s optics behind his visor before he replied, “We could also head to bed. Mine is big enough.”

Blast Off’s grin grew. “I… would like that.”

“I suspected you would,” Onslaught replied proudly, but with a hint of amusement. His fingertips brushed the metal of Blast Off’s lower arm, up and down - a feathery touch.

“Ah, I see,” Blast Off sighed theatrically, his own hand moved up to Onslaught’s helm, his thumb stroking over the side. “It was your tactical superiority to suggest that, so that you can trap me in bed.”

“It seems it’s not superior enough to be unnoticed.” Onslaught turned his head slightly, catching Blast Off’s palm to breath a soft kiss on it.

Blast Off shivered at the sight. “Don’t be disappointed,” Blast Off said with static in his voice. Reluctantly, he freed his hand and patted Onslaught’s helm. “Nobody is perfect.”

“Hmpf,” Onslaught huffed, and sat slowly, pulling Blast Off up to him. “I need to teach you that this is a lie.”

Blast Off raised his optical ridge and watched Onslaught get to his feet. It was cold without him and their cabled grew taut as he stood. “You wanna convince me that someone is perfect?”

“I want to convince you that _I_ am perfect.” He held out his hand, and Blast Off took it, standing up as well. “And I still have all night to convince you.”

“All night, huh?” Blast Off forced another grin. He did and at the same time didn’t like the sound of that. It was so final. Something Onslaught must have realised, because he stepped closer.

He put his hand on Blast Off’s waist. “All of tonight, and all of any other night in the future. If you bear with me.”

“I think I would.” Blast Off gave a slow nod. “Or will. I mean, yeah, I will.”

“I assumed you would say that,” Onslaught said smugly, and Blast Off huffed.

He didn’t reply. He pulled Onslaught down into another kiss, and sent a surge through the interface, making Onslaught gasp.

To him, Onslaught was already perfect, but he didn’t need to know it – yet.


End file.
